


A Gift and an Escape

by defying3reason



Series: College Boys and High School Girls [7]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defying3reason/pseuds/defying3reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire have been under a lot of stress lately, and they're showing the strain. Their concerned friends pitch in and send them away for their six-month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift and an Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robmcclanahan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robmcclanahan/gifts).



> This fic goes along with my modern college AU College Boys and High School Girls. I tried to make it relatively stand-alone-ish, but you might be a smidge confused by the goings-on if you're not reading that one.
> 
> You might be a smidge confused even if you are reading CB&HSG, actually. This is set a bit in the future, so some of the stuff in the set-up hasn't happened yet. Within the next couple of chapters of the main story, Enjolras' parents are going to cut him off and Grantaire's going to teach him how to live in poverty. 
> 
> I wrote this for strider17 as a belated birthday present. The request was for something smutty, with attention to the scars Enjolras got from the stabbing in the main story, and possibly a proposal. I didn't go with the proposal, as this is part of CB&HSG canon and I'm not ready for proposals yet, but I subbed in another show of commitment, and I hope it still works for you. Happy belated birthday! <3

Courfeyrac and Jehan walked into the Musain and split up without speaking. Courfeyrac combed the main room, scanning each table but seeing neither head of curly hair he was looking for. He poked into the men’s room just in case, but they weren’t there. Then he felt a skinny finger delicately tapping his shoulder. He turned around and saw his boyfriend looking at him expectantly. “They’re in the back room.”

“Alright. Text Ponine and ‘Ferre and let them know we found them?”

Jehan took his phone out. “I’ll wait down here.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.” Courfeyrac kissed Jehan’s cheek, then went into the slightly smaller room in the back of the Musain where the regulars tended to congregate.

Enjolras and Grantaire were sitting in the back corner, furthest from the door. Enjolras had an empty ceramic teacup in front of him, the small size, while Grantiare had a paper cup of tap water for his table rent. They had books open around them, but Grantaire was napping on his.

When Courfeyrac started walking towards them Enjolras reached over and shook Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire woke with a start. “Huh?”

They both eyed him warily, expecting some kind of wearing confrontation. Courfeyrac didn’t give them the chance. He forced an envelope into Grantaire’s hand and offered them a small smile. “No use resisting, boys. Everything’s already paid for.” Then he nodded at them, turned on his heel, and left.

Jehan was waiting for him by the exit. “How’d it go?”

“I didn’t stay long enough to find out. I know Grantaire’s not too proud to take the help. Hopefully he can whine Enjolras into doing something good for them. I’m starting to worry about those boys.”

“Mm hm. To be fair, I’ll probably be the same when I’m a starving artist.” Jehan flashed a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not as proud as Enjolras, but I’m still not good at taking help.”

“I guess it’s a good thing it doesn’t count as help when it comes from your boyfriend then,” Courfeyrac said. He took Jehan’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

“Enjolras did set that precedent…but I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“And you never will be. Now come on. You’re going to be late for your reading, and I don’t want to miss my chance to show you off.”

* * *

 

“What is it?”

Grantaire frowned at the envelope in puzzlement, was about to open it, and then had it snatched out of his hands. “I guess you’ll have to tell me.”

“There’s no need to be an ass. It shouldn’t take an hour to open an envelope.” Enjolras extracted some gift cards and a few pieces of paper. Grantaire pulled his chair so that it was alongside Enjolras’ instead of facing him and looked over his shoulder. One of the papers was a confirmation for a rental car, the next for a hotel room. The last was a letter signed by each of their friends.

Enjolras’ lips pressed together into a thin, angry line. “They shouldn’t have done this.”

“Definitely not,” Grantaire agreed, though everything about it looked fantastic. If he’d earned it somehow, running away with Enjolras for a few days where they would have all their basic needs met sounded like a dream (especially if it meant having your needs met up to Enjolras’ pre-impoverished standards).

“We can’t take this,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire nodded absently. He licked his uncomfortably dry lips before speaking. “Courf did say that it’s all paid for though. I don’t think they’re going to let us give it back. I mean…you have to give notice about backing out of hotel rooms and stuff.” The hotel was reserved for the week after next, which probably was enough notice minus a fee, but Grantaire didn’t want to tell Enjolras that.

Enjolras tried again. “If they truly wished to help us, they could have taken this money and put it towards something less…fantastically frivolous.”

“Mm hm.” Fantastic seemed like a good word for it. Grantaire took the papers from Enjolras so he could scrutinize them himself. “Yeah, food money would have been more practical. Or a gift card to Amazon so we could get our text books for the fall semester. But going away for a week to recover sanity sounds pretty awesome.”

“Sleeping on a real bed again,” Enjolras murmured.

“Fucking on a real bed again,” Grantaire whispered in his ear.

Enjolras’ hands involuntarily clenched around the envelope he was still holding. “That would…that _is_ something I have missed.”

Grantaire’s crack head mattress just wasn’t the same as an actual bed. They had to be careful how they slept, as there were a few ragged springs poking through the fabric to begin with, so doing anything more active than sleep was adventurous, to say the least.

Grantaire grinned. “It’s probably too late for them to be refunded.” Fully, anyway.

“I’ll be able to get a good job, once I’ve graduated. I’ll be successful.”

“We can pay them back.”

Enjolras looked down at the papers, the same hunger Grantaire felt in the pit of his stomach burning in Enjolras’ eyes. “I suppose it’s something to think about.”

* * *

 

Enjolras put the envelope containing their friends’ gift on Grantaire’s dresser and tried not to spend too much time thinking about it. Eventually junk started accruing around it; old receipts, work schedules jotted on napkins, the usual detritus of pockets being emptied on laundry day. The week of their gifted vacation was fast approaching, and Enjolras still wasn’t sure about accepting it. After all, they could give it to Courf and Jehan, or Marius and Cosette, or any of the other happy couples they knew who were financially stable enough to enjoy such a treat without the lingering aftertaste of guilt and obligation.

When he went to work on Friday and checked his schedule for the next week, he found his name crossed off every day. Feeling some resentment, Enjolras started walking for his supervisor’s office, but ultimately decided against it. He’d take it up with Feuilly, as it was fairly obvious which of his coworkers had tampered with his schedule. He definitely had some strong words for his friend, but he wouldn’t get him in trouble at work.

He did text Grantaire on his fifteen though, and asked him if he’d had his work schedule similarly altered. Grantaire answered with a resounding yes. Somehow, their friends had acquired a vacation request form, filled it out and signed it in perfectly forged handwriting, and turned it in over a month ago. He suspected the Thenardiers of having a hand in it.

Enjolras texted back that that sounded reasonable. Grantaire texted back a wink, and a moment later, he asked if they were really going on vacation together then.

Enjolras allowed himself a small smile. ‘I suppose we’ve got no other choice.’

They spent one more night on Grantaire’s crack head mattress, and the next morning found the rental waiting for them in the parking lot of the skateboard shop below Grantaire’s studio. There was a cooler full of snacks packed for them in the backseat, Courfeyrac had loaned them his mp3 player, loaded with a few new custom playlists, and there was a latte for each of them in the cup holders.

Grantaire looked like he was in danger of bursting into hysterical laughter, though Enjolras wasn’t sure his own smile was any more sane. “We’ve got the best fucking friends in the world,” Grantaire enthused.

Enjolras nodded his agreement.

* * *

 

A more thorough search of their rental car found a few more notes from their friends. Grantaire read snatches of them aloud while Enjolras drove to their hotel. “Jehan left us some fruity poetry.”

“His?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire skimmed the note and checked the end for an attribution. “Nope. Do I still have to read it?”

“…no.”

“Cool.” Grantaire tossed the note into the backseat.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’d have to admit that I didn’t read it either. Let’s see…Joly picked out our hotel room, apparently. He spent three hours researching hotels online and he said this one’s got great ratings for bed bug safety, but that nothing’s one hundred percent and that we should still check our bedding and keep our luggage off the floor.”

Enjolras snorted. “So it’s hypochondriac approved. Wonderful. What else?”

Grantaire looked the note over for anything he actually cared about, such as whether or not the hotel had a pool, but couldn’t initially find anything. “Um…oh! Free wi-fi. Let’s see…next note is Eponine’s and…I’m not reading that aloud.”

“I probably don’t want to hear it then.”

“There’s one part that’s okay. She wished us both a happy anniversary. That was nice of her.”

Enjolras frowned. “We’re having an anniversary? So that’s why they did this.”

“Enj, it’s our six month,” Grantaire said quietly, pretending to be hurt. Apparently he did too good a job, because Enjolras put the blinker on to pull over. “Keep driving, you idiot! I’m just messing around. I forgot it was coming up until Courfeyrac gave us the damn envelope of goodies.”

“I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay, really. Six months isn’t really a huge deal. Although…this is the longest I’ve ever been in a relationship before.”

Enjolras glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Six months? Really?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Have you done any better?” Grantaire asked pointedly.

“I’ve never dated anyone before! That is decidedly not the case with you.”

“You know Enj, it’s bad manners to call me a slut on our six month.”

“If the STD test fits…”

“Oh come on. That’s not even clever.”

* * *

 

Other than some oddly fitted sheets (apparently they were bedbug resistant), the hotel room was rather nice. Enjolras immediately started pointing out potential study nooks throughout the place, which prompted Grantaire to remind him that it was summer, they were on their first vacation together, for their fucking six month, so fucking be romantic (also, studying was _not_ romantic).

Enjolras held his laptop to his chest and glanced longingly at a comfy armchair tucked into an alcove by a side table facing a small window. “Can I study while you sleep?”

“I’m not sleeping in that bed by myself. Oh fuck, maybe I will. A real bed, Enjolras. For the next seven days, we’ve got _a real bed_ again. I don’t think I’m going to leave it.” And with that, Grantaire ran across their hotel room and jumped onto the bed with an excited squeal. “THE MATTRESS IS MEMORY FOAM!! Oh holy crap, this is like the comfiest fucking thing ever!”

Enjolras stepped into view sans laptop, but in the presence of a real bed Grantaire couldn’t say he was bothered by the high likelihood that his boyfriend had begun setting up a new study nest. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep properly now that I’ve adjusted to springs digging into my spine.”

“Bullshit. You haven’t adjusted and you know it. Now get your perfect ass on this bed.” Grantaire held out his hand in invitation and Enjolras obediently kicked his shoes off and curled up beside him.

They cuddled together for a few minutes, Grantaire nestled safely in Enjolras’ arms with his head tucked under Enjolras’ chin. He let his eyes drift shut and breathed out a contented sigh.

Enjolras started petting his hair. “’Taire?” he asked, after a few long minutes of sleepy snuggles.

“Mm?”

“I, er, I know this is supposed to be a romantic trip, and that it’s been kind of awhile since we’ve shared a real bed together…”

“Yep,” Grantaire said.

“But…instead of sex…would you mind napping with me for now?”

Grantaire hid his face in Enjolras’ chest and started laughing. “I’m so glad you asked first. I feel like I haven’t slept properly since fucking March and I’m so god damned tired. Yes, let’s nap.”

“I swear, it’ll be a romantic nap. I’ll dream of you,” Enjolras promised.

Grantaire leaned up for a quick kiss, and then leaned back with a blissful smile. “We’ve got a week of this.”

“Mm. Shut your eyes. I’m serious, I want to sleep and I will kick you out of bed if you keep me awake.”

“…you’re the one that talks in your sleep.”

“And you drool. Eyes. Shut.”

“Right, right. Sweet dreams, love.”

* * *

 

Grantaire woke with a bit of sleep amnesia, and for an irrational moment feared that he’d somehow broken into someone’s house while sleepwalking. He leaned up on his elbows, indulged in a long stretch, and simply basked in being well-rested for the first time in months.

When he dropped back against the mattress, memory of his vacation restored, he let out a little whine and grumbled about being alone in the massive bed. “This isn’t very romantic!” he shouted, on the off-chance his unsentimental boyfriend was within earshot.

Then he heard a toilet flush. He reached out his hand and patted the bed until he found the warm spot from Enjolras’ body heat. “I’m sorry, should I have wet the bed? Would that have been appropriately sentimental?” Enjolras teased.

Grantaire rolled onto his side and smiled lazily at Enjolras through half-lidded eyes. His golden hair was sleep tousled, and even though he was still more haggard and gaunt than he’d been when they’d first met, he looked just as fucking beautiful. More beautiful, even, for that playful look in his gorgeous blue eyes and the teasing smile he wore.

“C’mere.” Grantaire held out his arms and Enjolras obliged him. They traded lazy kisses, silly and euphoric and indulging in the pleasure of being alone together and cared for. Grantaire’s limbs still carried a tired ache from too many double shifts in too short a period of time, but his stomach was full, he’d had one hell of a nap, and the kisses he received from his beautiful blond were steadily increasing in intensity and hunger. He was most definitely in his happy place.

Grantaire skimmed his fingers under Enjolras’ t-shirt, fanning them out over soft, warm skin. His back felt so smooth, other than the knobs of his spine, which were just a bit more prominent than they shoulder have been. So were the ribs, when he ghosted his fingers over Enjolras’ sides. Enjolras leaned up and yanked his shirt off. He was still personified grace and strong, lean muscle, but leaner than he had been. And then there were the angry scars marring his abdomen and chest.

Grantaire dropped his head and kissed along each one. They represented the worst night of his life, and he hated them, but he hated the way Enjolras self-consciously ran his fingers over them from time to time even more. He hated the fact that Enjolras kept a shirt on when they were in private unless they were making love, and he hated the fact that he pulled the sheet up to his chin afterwards. So Grantaire kissed the scars, leaning back between breaths just enough to murmur words of love, and hoped that the tender gestures would somehow lessen the memory of the knife that had left them there.

Enjolras dug his fingers into Grantaire’s hair, massaging them into the messy strands. “It’s almost as long as it used to be. ‘Taire…if you ever cut your hair short again, I’m leaving you.”

Grantaire looked up from the scar on Enjolras’ abdomen that he’d been administering to. “You are such a god damn control freak.”

Enjolras leaned up on his elbows and smirked prettily at him. “You’re right. Controlling tendencies are a bad sign in a partner. Wear your hair any way you like. But if you do cut it short again, I’m shaving my head.”

Grantaire’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Do you want to risk that?”

He frowned. The answer was a resounding no, although… “I bet you could pull it off. It’s really not fair, how fucking hot you are.”

“Mm.” Enjolras tugged insistently on Grantaire’s shirt, and he leaned back enough so that he could pull it off. “Likewise.” He pushed himself up off their glorious high quality mattress, and ended up with Grantaire straddling his lap. Enjolras pressed kisses and sharp, little bites to his neck and collar bone. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” Enjolras whispered against his skin.

Grantaire shuddered at the heat in his tone. His eyes fell shut, and almost involuntarily, he began grinding down on Enjolras’ lap. “You and your silver tongue…I almost believe you when you say that.”

“Such a fucking cynic.” Enjolras’ hands found Grantaire’s hips, and he started rocking up into his movements. “Will we ever get to the point where I can tell you how much I love you and how-how hot you are, and that-how, fuck, how you’ve changed my life so much for the better, and you won’t have a snappy comeback, but you’ll just…just believe me?”

Grantaire buried his face in Enjolras’ neck and inhaled deeply. Even cheap, dollar store soap and sweat smelled good on Enjolras. “I suppose…mm…I suppose you have put up with me for six months.”

Suddenly Grantaire found himself with his back flat on the mattress and a familiarly enraged Enjolras glaring down at him. Their faces were very close together. “I haven’t ‘put up with you’ for six months, Grantaire. I’ve clung to you, you infuriatingly dense cynic. I’ve needed you like I’ve needed air. You pushed me when I needed to be pushed; you kept me going when my ideals were challenged by so much reality in such a short space of time that I thought I was going to collapse. Even though things have been hard, I wouldn’t take back a second of our time together. So will you fucking quit your bitching and just be happy?”

Grantaire wasn’t sure what to say to all that. He hadn’t meant to incite such impassioned speech; the self-deprecating humor really was just part of their banter for him. So he did the only thing that seemed logical given the circumstances-he tangled his fingers in Enjolras’ sun bleached curls and tugged him close for a devouring, possessive kiss that left his lips raw and red and his head spinning from lack of oxygen.

He must have been more dazed than he thought, because he didn’t even notice that his pants were gone and that his underpants were around his knees until Enjolras grasped him. Grantaire bucked up into his roughly moving hand, all sorts of ridiculous sounds and whimpers leaving him in consequence of that strong grip, especially under the intensity of the steely blue gaze fixed on him.

“Someday I’m going to have to show you what you look like when you’re like this. Sprawled below me, fucking my fist, raw, wanton. You’re more beautiful than you realize, ‘Taire.”

“Enj…why the fuck are you still wearing pants?”

“Good question.” Enjolras pulled away and, with shaking fingers, fumbled with his belt. Grantaire leaned across the bed, searching through his discarded clothing for the lube he’d stashed in the pocket of his jeans. Then he heard the telltale click of a plastic cap behind him.

Grantaire looked over his shoulder at Enjolras, arching an eyebrow. For some reason, he hadn’t expected Enjolras to pack lube too, though in retrospect that seemed pretty stupid. The fact that their vacation was going to include a lot of fucking had been something of a foregone conclusion.

He inhaled sharply when Enjolras started coating his strong, graceful fingers. Grantaire remained on his hands and knees. With the way Enjolras had been kissing and touching him so far, he had an idea of how this round was going to go.

Within seconds Enjolras was behind him, kissing a trail down the knobs of his spine as his slick fingers worked Grantaire open. Grantaire leaned into the welcome invasion, letting out a string of appreciative curses.

Enjolras took him mercilessly, setting a brutal rhythm that had Grantaire seeing stars. Grantaire wondered if he might come from the fucking alone. With the way those hips were driving into him, he couldn’t even think of getting a hand to his painfully hard cock. If he tried he’d lose balance and face plant against the mattress, and there was no way in hell he was giving up that angle before he had to.

Then the choice was taken from him entirely. Enjolras violently flipped him onto his back and repositioned so that they were facing each other. He could see the fiery passion in Enjolras’ eyes, and he basked in the knowledge that it was for _him_ now, not abstract ideals and naïve optimism, but the jaded cynic that had somehow redeemed himself and become a partner. And there was something else intermingling with the passion and possessiveness.

Grantaire let himself see it for what it was: love. Enjolras loved him. God only knew why, but it was true.

Enjolras started stroking him, and with that, and the pounding hips, and his _fucking eyes_ , it was all too much. Grantaire wanted it to last forever, but he was only human. He came with a shout, pleasure erupting so suddenly and violently that it rendered him insensible for some time. He felt Enjolras come, buried within him, and then a warm weight collapsed on top of him, but he was too thoroughly blissed out to do much more than take note of it.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay together, he panting and looking at the ceiling, Enjolras panting with his head tucked under Grantaire’s chin, before some kind of sense returned. “So we’re doing that all week?” Grantaire whispered.

“All week. And we’re possibly stealing this bed.”

Grantaire ran his hand down Enjolras’ sweaty back. “We’ll have to steal a truck too. I don’t think this’ll fit in the rental. Enj, you need to move for at least a minute. This level of sticky’s going to get uncomfortable real fast.”

Enjolras nuzzled against his throat. “One more minute.”

He could oblige for one more minute. It’s not like he really felt like moving either, but they had made the mistake of letting cum cool between their bellies once, and the memory of that incident finally prompted Enjolras to sit up and let Grantaire wipe them down.

Grantaire brushed damp honey colored bangs from Enjolras’ eyes and leaned forward for a slow, gentle kiss. “I wish they’d been an easier six months, but I wouldn’t have a moment of it back either,” he whispered. He trailed his fingertips over Enjolras’ scars, and though he shivered, Enjolras didn’t flinch away. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Enjolras said, with earnestness and a desperation that was almost painful to see.

Grantaire cupped Enjolras’ face in his hands and brushed his thumbs over his cheeks. “I believe you.”

 

 

 


End file.
